The Lights Go On Again

by Kit Pearson

  This was better; they could separate into boys and girls again while they examined the tray. Gavin had always been good at Kim’s Game. He concentrated hard: an apple, a pair of scissors, a china cat, a handkerchief …

  Mrs. Austen took the tray away and they each tried to remember its contents. Roger got them all and won a small bag of candy.

  “Now that was really fun!” said Mrs. Austen, flushed with success. “How about London Bridge?”

  “Please, Mum,” begged Eleanor. “Can’t we stop playing games and open the presents?”

  Mrs. Austen looked disappointed. “No more games? All right, then, sweetheart.”

  They sat on the floor around Eleanor while each person handed a present to her in turn. The girls all began talking as if they were by themselves, oohing and ahhing at the hair ribbons, necklaces, small dolls and ornaments that Eleanor unwrapped. The boys sat forgotten at the edge.

  “Why do girls like such boring stuff?” whispered George. “My mother bought her a pincushion!”

  “Mine got her a comb and brush set,” said Tim scornfully.

  Gavin smiled to himself. He had chosen Eleanor’s present himself: a copy of his favourite book, Lassie Come Home.

  “Thanks, Gavin!” Eleanor looked over at him when she had unwrapped it. “I’ve seen the movie but I’ve never read the book.”

  “The book’s just as good,” he assured her.

  Mrs. Austen stood at the door. “Everyone into the dining room!”

  “At last!” whispered Tim.

  Eleanor blew out the eleven candles dotted over the large chocolate cake. Mrs. Austen helped her cut it and passed cake and ice cream to everyone.

  “Have you all had enough?” she asked after second and third helpings. They looked up from their scraped plates and grinned at her.

  “Now you can go back into the living room and amuse yourselves until it’s time to go home,” said Mrs. Austen. She looked relieved as they filed out.

  Once again the girls and boys sat on separate sides of the room. But their full stomachs made them relax. Jamie let out a noisy belch and everyone laughed. Suddenly they acted ordinary, as if they were in the classroom.

  “Do your blushing trick, Tim,” said Sylvia.

  Everyone watched Tim while a slow pink wave ascended from his neck to his forehead.

  “How do you do that?” asked Wendy.

  Tim shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve always been able to do it.”

  “Hey, can anyone do this?” Billy bent his fingers backwards. “I’m double-jointed,” he boasted.

  Then George showed them how he could make his arms rise on their own by standing in the doorway, pressing his wrists against each side of it, then letting go. Everyone had to try.

  “Can we see your monkey, Eleanor?” asked Corinne. They followed Eleanor to her room where Kilroy crouched in a cage, glaring at them with beady black eyes.

  “He’s mad because he’s locked up,” said Eleanor.

  Gavin looked curiously around her room. There were the usual girls’ things—dolls and frilly curtains—but he noted with approval that she had a microscope and many of the same books that he had.

  “Let’s play Murder In the Dark!” suggested Charlotte.

  “It’s not dark enough,” said Eleanor.

  “How about Sardines?” said Lizzie. “I’ll be It. Is it all right if I go anywhere in the house?”

  “Anywhere but the kitchen,” said Eleanor. “Then we won’t bother Mum.”

  Lizzie ran out to hide. The rest of them sat on the bed and the floor in Eleanor’s room, counting to one hundred in unison. Then they fanned all over the house to search for her.

  Gavin tried the basement, the den and the living room before he heard faint giggling coming from Eleanor’s parents’ bedroom. He ventured in and discovered Lizzie, Charlotte, Jamie and Frances under the bed. He squished in with them and stifled his laughter while they watched Tim’s feet come into the room and go out again.

  By the time ten of them were crammed under the bed they were giggling so much that the rest had no trouble finding them—except for Tim. When he was the only one left they screamed his name until he came back into the bedroom. “But I looked in here!” he grumbled.

  “Charlotte’s It,” said Lizzie. “She was the first one to find me.”

  “What’s all this?” Mrs. Austen came into the bedroom. “Now, Eleanor, I really don’t think you need to be in here. If you all go back into the living room I’ll bring you some ginger ale.”

  Everyone sprawled in friendly comfort in the living room, gulping down the welcome drink.

  “Do you know who I saw the other day?” asked Marit. “Miss Wright! She was in Woolworth’s and guess what she was buying—an eraser!”

  They all shrieked with laughter. Old Miss Wright had been their grade three teacher. Every day she had confiscated someone’s eraser and a rumour had started that she ate them after school.

  “Do you think we’ll get Miss Mackay or Miss Hood next year?” asked Shirley.

  “Miss Hood’s really mean,” shuddered Frances.

  “Maybe we won’t get either of them,” said Eleanor. “Mrs. Moss told me there’ll be a bunch of new teachers next year, especially for the older grades—men who’ve come back from the war.”

  “A man teacher! That’ud be swell!” said Tim.

  “Did you know that soon we’ll have television in Canada?” asked Meredith.

  “I know about television,” said Roger timidly. It was the first time he’d spoken. “Everyone will have a screen in their living room with sound and pictures.”

  “My mother says it won’t last,” said Jean. “You have to look at it all the time. You can’t do other things, like when you’re listening to the radio.”

  “And you have to make the room really dark,” said Wendy.

  “And the screen’s really tiny,” said Gloria. “Why would anyone want to watch a tiny little screen when you can go to the movies? Did anyone see The Three Caballeros?”

  Gavin leaned against a chair, listening to the chatter. They were all friends with him again. Most of them had been in his class since grade one. Now that he was staying in Canada, they’d be in his class next year as well.

  “I have an idea,” said Sylvia. “Let’s dance!”

  “Dance?” cried some of the girls with excitement.

  “Dance?” said Tim in horror.

  “Okay,” said Eleanor. “My sister has lots of records, and we just got one of those automatic record players.” She went over to it and in a few seconds Doris Day was crooning “Sentimental Journey.”

  Sylvia drew the curtains and turned off the lights. Some of the girls retreated to a corner, but others looked determined. “Come on, Jamie. Come on, Billy.” They dragged the boys into the middle of the room and pulled them around in the dim light.

  Gavin backed away from Meredith and quickly turned to Eleanor. “Would you like to dance?”

  In a few minutes even Roger was dancing. The other girls danced with each other, giggling as someone stepped on a clumsy foot.

  Gavin steered Eleanor carefully. He had practised dancing every summer with the older cousins at Gairloch. “You’re good!” whispered Eleanor as someone put on “There, I’ve Said It Again.”

  “Isn’t there something faster?” complained Joyce, but Gavin was glad he could still hold onto Eleanor. Her hand was soft and she smelled like Ivory soap.

  Mrs. Austen hurried in. “Dancing! Don’t you think you’re too young for that? It’s time to go, anyway. Mrs. Anthony is here to pick up Jean and here comes Mr. Everett up the walk.”

  Gavin and Roger and Tim walked home, past lawns sparkling with greenness in the hot June air.

  “That wasn’t too bad,” admitted Roger.

  “The grub was super!” said Tim. He’d stuffed his pockets with peanuts and they nibbled them as they walked.

  Gavin just smiled, thinking of how Eleanor’s hair had brushed against his cheek.
r />   17

  The Farewell Party

  Mrs. Moss gave up on regular lessons for the last few days of school. Instead 5A listened to her read Tom Sawyer. They also helped clean the classroom, by taking down the maps, perfect spelling papers and drawings pinned up on the walls and sweeping out and scrubbing the ledges, floors and desks.

  On the last afternoon Mrs. Moss stood in front of them holding a sheaf of white cardboard. “I’m happy to tell you that everyone has been promoted to grade six,” she smiled. She passed out the report cards in order. Eleanor, as usual, was first, then Roger.

  The class examined the report cards as Mrs. Moss poured out glasses of lemonade. Gavin had good marks in English and socials but he only got 61 in arithmetic. He was afraid to look at conduct, but to his relief he got a B. Underneath Mrs. Moss had scribbled, “Gavin has bravely overcome the difficulties he’s had to endure this term. We are delighted he will be back with us for the next school year.” She didn’t say anything about him getting the strap.

  Gavin looked up at his teacher, as she merrily chatted with the girls who were helping her pass out cookies. If he were marking her, she’d get all A’s.

  After the treats were finished and the empty glasses collected, each pupil waited to be released.

  “You’ll always remember this school term,” said Mrs. Moss. “The term the war ended. Now it’s up to your generation to grow up and make a world where there aren’t any wars.”

  There was a solemn silence while the class digested this. Mrs. Moss looked apologetic. “What long faces! You don’t have to do it yet. Enjoy being young first! I’ve liked teaching you very much,” she continued. “I hope you all have a wonderful summer and come back ready to work hard in the fall.”

  Tim writhed with impatience. “Three cheers for Mrs. Moss!” he shouted. He jumped to his feet and everyone else followed. “Hip Hip Hooray! Hip Hip Hooray! Hip Hip Hooray!”

  “Thank you!” Then at last came the phrase they’d been longing for. “All right … you may go.”

  Everyone rushed out the door, lugging book bags and calling back goodbyes to Mrs. Moss.

  Mr. Evans smiled at Gavin, Tim and Roger as they passed him in the hall. “All ready for your holiday, boys?”

  “Yes, sir,” they mumbled, slowing their run to a walk. Gavin avoided the principal’s eyes. He would never be able to forget what nice Mr. Evans had done to him.

  A chant echoed all over the playground:

  No more pencils

  No more books!

  No more teacher’s

  Dirty looks!

  “What are you doing this summer, Gavin?” Eleanor stood by the bike stands as Gavin tried to fit his bulging schoolbag into his basket.

  “We’re going to the cottage like we always do,” said Gavin. “But this year we have to wait until after …” He swallowed. “Until after my sister and my grandfather go back to England.”

  “When’s that?”

  “July the thirteenth.”

  Eleanor glanced at Tim and Roger approaching and said quickly, “I’ll be in Toronto all of July. Maybe you could come over before you go to the cottage.”

  “Maybe,” said Gavin. “See you, then.”

  “See you.” She rushed away to join her friends.

  “What did she want?” said Tim.

  “Oh … she just wondered what I got in English,” said Gavin.

  “She always beats me in that,” muttered Roger. “If it wasn’t for English, I’d have the highest marks.”

  Their bags were so heavy they had to walk their bikes, balancing the loads on their handlebars.

  “This is the fourth best day of the year,” pronounced Tim. “First is Christmas, then your birthday, then Hallowe’en—then today! Let’s ride our bikes to Hogg’s Hollow tomorrow.”

  “We’re leaving tomorrow,” Roger reminded him. He and his parents were going to stay with relatives in Collingwood for July. Roger’s father had been told to take a complete rest. “He wakes up at night shouting,” Roger had told them. “He dreams he’s still fighting. And sometimes he just sits in a chair for hours, not saying anything.” He looked as anxious as he had before his father returned.

  “I guess we won’t see you until September, then,” Gavin told Roger as they neared the corner.

  “I guess not. Have a good summer. ‘Bye!”

  “I’ll come over tomorrow after breakfast,” Tim told Gavin.

  After they separated they each turned around and shouted, “All for one and one for all!”

  ON DOMINION DAY Gavin and Tim went to see Son of Lassie at Loew’s. Gavin had been longing to see it but he couldn’t pay attention. All he could think of was Norah leaving.

  Ten more days, ten more days … The refrain pounded relentlessly in his head. A week from Friday Norah and Grandad would go to Union Station to catch the train to Montreal. They’d stay overnight with the Montreal relatives, then continue to Quebec City, where they would board a ship called the Strathern for Liverpool.

  “Are you all right, Gavin?” asked Aunt Mary a few days later. She sat down on the stairs beside him. He had moped there since breakfast, staring at Norah’s trunk packed and ready in the hall. Today it was going to be picked up and shipped ahead of her.

  Gavin shrugged, and Aunt Mary put her arm around his shoulder. “Even though we’ve been prepared for this for so long, I still can’t believe the time has almost come.”

  They were quiet for a few minutes. “You can still change your mind if you want to,” said Aunt Mary softly.

  Gavin looked at the trunk. It stood near the closet he used to play in when he was younger, pretending that the late Mr. Ogilvie’s canes were horses. The silver bowl on the side table and the red Persian carpet glowed in a beam of sunlight. Very soon the trunk would be taken away from this peaceful hall that smelled of roses. It would start its long journey to an unknown country. “No!” he shuddered.

  Aunt Mary pulled him closer. “As long as you’re sure. I certainly don’t want to lose you—not you as well as Norah.” She sighed. “Soon you and I and Mother and Hanny will be at Gairloch. That will cheer us up.”

  “And Bosley,” whispered Gavin, as the dog nudged his knee. “You’ll be glad to get to Gairloch, too, won’t you boy?” Bosley had been lying sadly by the trunk all week.

  “Where is Norah?” asked Gavin. “I haven’t seen her all morning.”

  “She went downtown with Mother to buy a new dress for the party.”

  At least getting ready for the party gave them all something to do. Hanny and Aunt Mary spent hours in the kitchen. Gavin helped Norah move back the furniture and roll up the rugs.

  “I hope Paige remembers all her records,” she said. How could she think about records at a time like this?

  Aunt Florence continued to be distant with Gavin, but she put on such a good act of being affectionate that no one but Gavin knew how much she’d changed. Norah and Grandad, on the other hand, could scarcely let Gavin out of their sight. Grandad took him to Centre Island for the day and Norah even dragged him over to Paige’s with her. Now they talked about what they’d do when Gavin visited England next summer.

  “We’ll go to Camber, of course,” said Grandad. “Wait until you see the beach—miles and miles of sand! When you were a little tyke you used to bury me in it.”

  A dim memory of holding a tin pail and shovel tugged at Gavin’s mind—then let go.

  “Andrew is coming to visit me for sure!” Norah told them. “I sent him Muriel’s address. He says he has a surprise—for all of us! You’ll probably see him at Christmas, Gavin.”

  Grandad went upstairs for more tobacco. “Norah, what will happen with you and Andrew?” blurted out Gavin.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Will you—will you marry him?” He shivered. If Norah had to live so far away, he wanted her to stay exactly the same.

  Norah grinned in the carefree way she used to before their parents’ death. “Marry him! I’m only fifteen!�
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  “But I thought …”

  She blushed. “I know I told you I loved Andrew. But I was different … then. Now I don’t expect anything from him. I still like him a lot. But he’s probably changed—just like I have. I’m just going to wait and see how I feel when I see him.”

  Grandad came back and began telling them how he planned to add a new room to the house. “For you, old man,” he smiled. “It will always be there for your visits.”

  “When you come next summer I’ll show you where I saw a crashed German plane,” said Norah.

  How could they chatter on so cheerfully, when they were going to leave so soon? Then Gavin heard the pain in their voices. They were only pretending to be cheerful; pretending for him.

  THE FAMILY SAT in the living room, waiting for the guests to arrive. The house was spotless and the dining-room table was heaped with food and drink. It was a hot night and Gavin’s short wool trousers itched. Norah looked much older than fifteen in her new yellow-and-white polka dot dress and bright lipstick. Even Grandad was dressed up, in a clean shirt and a blue tie. He fanned his sweating face with the evening paper. With an exasperated look at Aunt Florence, he fingered his empty pipe.

  “I can’t believe you’ll only be with us for five more days, Norah!” said Aunt Mary, fumbling for her handkerchief.

  Aunt Florence frowned at her. “Now, Mary, none of that. Here’s someone arriving,” she added with relief.

  Paige and her sisters and parents filled the hall. “Do you want me to show you how to do a Chinese burn?” Daphne whispered to Gavin. “I take your arm and …”

  “No!” he said, backing away from her. If only she were Eleanor. Aunt Mary had asked him if he wanted to invite his friends, but he’d shaken his head. After all, the party wasn’t for him.

  More and more people filled the house. It was just like after the memorial service—but now everyone was laughing instead of acting solemn. Gavin scowled. Why were they all so cheerful? Norah and Grandad were leaving—that wasn’t a reason to celebrate!

  The adults—friends of the Ogilvies and a few of Norah’s teachers—sat on the furniture around the edge of the living room. Teen-agers danced on the cleared space in the middle. When there was a slow dance some of the adults got up and joined it.